As Long As He Draws Breath
by Ke'Anna
Summary: Todd Manning faces his past with his father figures, Peter Manning and Sam Rappaport.
1. Part 1

As Long As He Draws Breath part 1  
  
Life often seemed to come full circle. It wasn't so long ago that Todd and Sam   
were standing in that very same airport together. Todd called Sam, desperate   
to save his marriage to Tea. Years passed since they had even spoken, but the   
first person Todd thought of to help him was Sam. At the sound of Sam's   
long-gone, but familiar "Hey Boomer!", Todd was transported back to Chicago   
and his happier times with Sam. Those times, he could almost forget about the   
hell he was going through at home with his father. How he'd wanted to go home   
with Sam, and live with him. How he'd wanted to be Sam's little boy.  
  
He'd almost asked him that once, but he lost his nerve. He could tell that   
Sam's wife Lindsay wasn't too happy to have him around. That was something she   
and his father seemed to have in common. Hell, that was something everyone   
seemed to have in common when it came to him. That's why he was slinking out   
of town with his tail between his legs, with a few bare goodbyes, that he   
hadn't intended to give. He just wanted to get out, but he'd ran into Viki in   
the family cemetery, and that was hard. And now, here was Sam. This was no   
picnic either.   
  
Sam had practically been begging him for reassurance that his judgement wasn't   
completely whacked when he believed Todd about what happened between him and   
Peter. He asked Todd if it was a lie. If it was the truth, Sam would have   
known, would have seen...something. Todd didn't want to hurt Sam anymore, so   
he told him what he needed to hear. Maybe now they could start over, and Sam   
wouldn't hate him anymore.   
  
Then again, maybe not. Still, with an ironic grin, he couldn't stop the words   
that came out of his mouth.  
  
"You want one of my tickets?"   
  
Sam shook his head. "No, thank you." Todd nodded. He certainly didn't expect   
him to say yes. After all, this was only a chance goodbye, as Todd set off for   
parts unknown to try to figure out what else to do with his sorry excuse for a   
life. But he couldn't help hoping that he wasn't losing everyone that he cared   
about. He had to content himself with Sam's kind, if sad, smile, that let Todd   
know that he still cared a little bit.  
  
But maybe that was the lie, and the truth was, it was really over. Maybe it   
was for the best that he disappeared forever. He turned and started away.   
  
"Todd wait!"   
  
Todd stopped and turned around to face his former coach, wearing an expression   
of mild impatience. What now? What else was there to say?  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Give me one."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I'll take one of your tickets. It'll save me the expense of buying one. I   
don't really have a destination in mind anymore anyway, so I might as well...   
uh, I'm rambling. Give me one of your tickets. The offer still stands, doesn't   
it?"  
  
Todd's eyes seemed to grow twice as large, then overcoming his surprise, he   
shook it off. He kept his expression blank to hide the tiny seed of unexpected   
pleasure he felt.   
  
"Yeah sure."  
  
Todd slapped one of the tickets into Sam's hand and held his gaze for a   
second, then he turned back to the check-in, this time with Sam following   
close behind.  
  
When Sam boarded the plane, Todd was already settling into his seat. Of   
course, the rest of the section was empty. Sam stored his carry-on bag in one   
of the compartments behind Todd's seat, intending to sit next to Todd. A   
withering glance from his young friend stripped him of that notion. He sighed.   
He was never going to understand Todd, that was certain. He took a seat   
directly across the aisle from Todd so that he could still be close enough to   
talk to him.  
  
Todd was leafing through one of the on-board magazines, studiously avoiding   
Sam's glance.  
  
"Thanks...uh...for the ticket, Todd."  
  
"Yeah, no big deal." Todd put the magazine aside and set up a tray at his seat   
in front of him. He took from his bag framed photos of Tea and a baby Starr.   
Sam felt bad for Todd looking at those and knowing how much Todd would miss   
them, and Viki. Sam knew he shouldn't feel sorry for Todd after the stunts he   
pulled, but he couldn't help it. He told himself that Todd deserved what he   
got, but it was hard to keep his heart hardened against him. He searched his   
mind for some words of comfort he could offer Todd, if any.   
  
"Todd, this doesn't have to be forever, you know. I'm sure that you'll see   
them again, when you get whatever is going on inside you worked out. I'll help   
you. I'll try--"  
  
"Why don't you hate me, Sam?" Todd turned his pointed gaze on Sam, hazel eyes   
burning with a mixture of astonishment and suspicion.   
  
Sam stared back at him, speechless. The question was out of the blue, but not   
totally unexpected, for Sam had asked himself that same thing. Why didn't he   
hate him? Todd made a fool of him with the DID. He was probably laughing his   
fool head off at Sam and everyone else while he pretended to be Tom or Rodd or   
Pete.   
  
And if that wasn't enough, there was the all but confession he'd made about   
being raped by his own father. Sam had felt like he'd be consumed by the guilt   
of it, finding out that Peter had raped Todd, and he never figured it out. Sam   
beat himself up, wondering how he could spend so many hours with this boy and   
not know. He'd called himself all kinds of a blind, self-centered fool for not   
seeing it. And now Todd said he made it up to stay out of jail. It was   
perverse. How could Todd do it? How could he make up such a cruel lie?   
  
Yet, Todd's words echoed in his mind.  
  
"The truth is a lie and a lie is the truth."  
  
He hadn't thought much about it before, but now he wondered. What was Todd   
trying to tell him? Was his "surrogate son" reaching out to him again? Was he   
still that little lost boy that Sam first met sitting on the bleachers of his   
middle school and watching the other kids practice? Would he run away from Sam   
again? He was running away now, but this time Sam was determined not to let   
him get away. This time, Sam would help him. This time, he would be the father   
that that boy, inside the man, still seemed to need.  
  
He regarded Todd, who's skeptical expression never left his face. What could   
he say to that? Only the truth.  
  
"Why don't I hate you, Todd? Because I can't. It's just like Will and Jen. No   
matter what they ever did to me, I could never hate them because they are my   
children and I love them. I love *you* Todd. Remember in the cabana, when I   
told you you were my kid too? I still feel that way. Maybe not in blood, but   
because that's how much I care about you. I should hate you, shouldn't I, for   
the stunts you pulled, but I don't. I don't hate you because I love you like   
you're my own kid."  
  
Todd squirmed in his seat, the simple, yet meaningful declaration too much to   
grasp. He could hardly believe Sam, but he still wanted to, more than   
anything. Sam loved him--   
  
"Still?" his voice choked a little on the word.  
  
"Yeah, still. You don't automatically stop loving someone just because they do   
something that hurts you. I think Tea can attest to that." Todd flinched at   
this. "Besides, I think you do more to hurt yourself than anyone else."  
  
Todd rolled his eyes, and smirked, not without relief. Now *this* he could   
handle. This was familiar territory. "Not this again."  
  
"Okay, I won't say another word about that, but I've loved that little boy you   
were when I first saw you and I love you now. It doesn't mean I'll let you   
hurt me or make a fool of me again, or anyone else. It doesn't mean I trust   
you. It does mean I want to understand why you keep hurting everyone who tries   
to love you, pal.   
  
Todd almost laughed. "Boy, you sound more and more like Viki everyday. Were   
you seperated at birth? I should have invited her to come along, then I could   
have stereo nagging."  
  
Sam nodded his head, supressing his own smile. It's what he expected and he   
knew he had to gear himself up for whatever shields Todd threw in his path   
when it came to talking about the dreaded *feelings*. Still, he was afraid to   
push Todd too much. After what happened in the cabana, after Todd's coma, he   
would still have to tread lightly with him. *You're not running away from me   
this time, pal*, he thought, *not this time. Not if I can help it and help   
you.*  
  
"Maybe this is my fault," he muttered half to himself.  
  
"Whoa what? Your fault? What are you talking about, Sam?"  
  
"Maybe if I'd read the signs better, I don't know-"  
  
This time Todd did laugh. "I know what you're doing, Sam, and it's not going   
to work. If you're going to keep yapping away, I might have to take back my   
ticket and have you booted back to coach."   
  
"All right. Okay, forget it. We don't have to talk about this anymore if you   
don't want to, and it's obvious that you don't."  
  
"That's right, I don't. So you can save it for some other little lost orphan   
boy." Todd's eyes sparkled with sarcastic glee. "Better buckle you seatbelt,   
Sam. I think there's going to be a lot of turbulence on this flight."   
  
He smirked and Sam rolled his eyes and settled in for the long flight. 


	2. Part 2

As Long As He Draws Breath part 2  
  
When Todd first met Sam, it had been sunny all day, after a cold spell of   
retreating winter. Todd sat on the bleachers of his school football field,   
wistfully watching the other boys practice. Most of them he knew, but he   
wouldn't have called them friends. He had no friends to speak of. He was much   
too shy and he couldn't have had any of them to his house to play anyway. He'd   
always felt lonely, but since his mother left, it took on a new urgency and   
desperation. He wanted friends. He wanted to be out there with the other boys,   
laughing and crashing into each other. He wanted to hold that piece of pigskin   
in his hands and run for all he was worth. He wanted a life and some fun.  
  
But he knew his father wouldn't allow it. Ever since Todd's mother left, his   
father kept an even tighter hold on him. He insisted that he come directly   
home after school each day...or else. That cut out little league football   
practice. The one time he'd dared to broach the subject with Peter, he'd   
gotten a resounding,  
  
"Hell no!"  
  
"Buy why?" he'd asked, trembling with fright and frustration.  
  
"I want you in this house right after school everyday. You have homework and   
you have chores. You don't have time to be messing around, do you hear me?"  
  
"But Daddy..." Todd shrank away from Peter's upraised hand, from his   
ever-constant anger.   
  
"Not another word about it, Todd. You think I'm going to let you out of my   
sight for even a second longer than I have to? Forget it. One more word about   
it and I'll pull you out of school permanently and keep you locked up in this   
house all day. How would you like that, boy?"   
  
Todd never brought it up again after that, but some days he would dare a few   
minutes after school to watch some of the practice. In spite of what he said,   
Peter didn't keep that close of an eye on Todd, counting on the child's fear   
of him to keep him in line. In fact, he pretty much ignored Todd when he   
wasn't angry at him or didn't need him for something. Still, Todd dared no   
more than a few minutes every couple of days. He could explain it away if he   
had to. He didn't want to push his luck in case Peter did decide to check up   
on him.  
  
This day, Todd had been watching for about ten minutes when he decided it was   
enough and he had to hurry home.The tall, white-blond coach came toward him.   
Todd froze, wondering what he should do annd why the coach was coming to talk   
to him. He felt pretty sure that it was okay to watch practices, but a knot   
formed in his stomach anyway. This was adult authority coming towards him.   
Nevermind that the man wore a friendly smile that reflected in his clear, blue   
eyes. Todd wanted to run, but he couldn't. He just stared, open-mouthed, until   
the coach was upon him.  
  
"Hi," said Sam, smiling wider. "I've seen you here before, watching. What's   
your name?"  
  
"Tom," then he shook his head, his father's voice ringing in it, warning him   
not to use that name again. That was what his mother sometimes called him. "I   
mean...Todd. Todd Manning."  
  
"Todd, are you interested in joining the team? We could always use a few more   
good players."  
  
Todd dropped his head and his voice quavered. "I... I'm not good...at   
anything."  
  
"You're not? I don't believe that. I bet you're good at lots of things. We're   
having spring tryouts in a couple of weeks. Why don't you come, Todd?"  
  
Todd didn't answer, wide, hazel eyes dropping to his sneakers. He felt a   
couple of gentle fingers lifting his chin. He flinched away from the touch,   
but saw no malice in the man's eyes. Only that warm smile, slipped a bit from   
worry. He offered Sam a tiny, wary smile, just let him know he was okay, and   
saw at least some relief in the coach's eyes.  
  
"Why don't you ask your parents if you can try out. I'm sure they'd--"  
  
Todd jerked away, his smile dissolving into a pained grimace.  
  
"I-I gotta go. I'm late getting home." He checked his watch. He was 25 minutes   
late. If his father called home and he wasn't there, he would catch it for   
sure. He grabbed his backpack and ran off, not looking back.  
  
"Todd, wait!"   
  
Todd knew that he couldn't chance going back there. He felt sad knowing that   
he would probably never see the coach with the kind blue eyes again. On that   
point, he would be happy to find that he was wrong. 


	3. Part 3

As Long As He Draws Breath part 4  
  
That night, Sam was trying to get some work done in his study, but he couldn't   
seem to concentrate. His mind was filled up with the image of the small, sad   
boy he'd met that day. The shaggy dark blond hair that fell in the child's   
face couldn't hide those eyes that seemed way too world weary for someone who   
couldn't be more than eleven or so. Sam wondered what put that look in his   
eyes and made him flinch away in fear at Sam's slightest touch.  
  
Maybe his parents had warned him against strangers, but Sam had tried not to   
alarm him. He'd been coaching little league football for a little over a year   
as a favor to a colleague who's son was on the team, and he'd grown to quite   
enjoy it. He liked the children and he thought he had a good rapport with   
them. So what was it? What had he done?  
  
He shook his head briskly, as if snapping himself awake. *Back to work, Sam,*   
he chided himself. *That boy is not your problem. You already have enough on   
your plate.* He did. With a toddler son, and a newborn daughter of his own, a   
wife that he was starting to feel distant from, a large caseload, plus his   
little league duties, which he took very seriously, he had a lot to fill up   
his thoughts. Why then did his mind keep jumping to that little boy? Something   
about his sadness touched Sam in a way he never expected. No child that young   
should look that sad. It just didn't seem right.   
And not only that. There was the fact that he ran away when Sam asked him if   
he wanted to join the team. That was odd since the longing was so clear in his   
eyes. What stopped him?  
  
Sam sighed and gathered his work together. It was clear that he wasn't going   
to get a thing done. He might as well go to bed. He heard Lindsay calling him   
from upstairs and he told her he was on his way up. He turned off the light   
and started to close the door.  
  
*Todd Manning,* he thought, *what is going on with you, pal?* As the door   
clicked shut he found himself determined to find out.  
  
The next day at practice, Sam kept one eye on his team and the other eye   
toward the bleachers, hoping that Todd had changed his mind. A half hour later   
there was still no sign of Todd and he had given up. With a whistle of   
disappointment he shrugged.   
  
*Well, that's that.* he thought. Or was it? He got an idea.  
  
As the boys were about to leave the field to clean up and then get picked up   
by their parents, or walk home in their own little groups, Sam stopped them   
and asked them if anyone knew a kid named Todd Manning.  
  
A few of them remembered him as the shy kid in their english and math classes.   
A small, strawhaired boy named Jason had him in his last period social studies   
class. He pointed Sam in the right direction and ran off to join his   
teammates.   
  
Sam arrived at the school the next day, about 10 minutes before the last bell.   
He waited outside Todd's classroom. When the bell rang, the door opened and a   
swarm of laughing children came bounding out the door. Sam didn't see Todd   
among them and thought he must have gotten the wrong classroom. He started to   
leave when a lone child shuffled out of the classroom. He didn't see Sam   
standing beside the door as his eyes were pasted to the ground.   
  
"Hi there!" Sam said brightly.  
  
Todd started, as if suddenly forced awake from a drugged slumber. He backed   
into the wall and uttered an "oof" as his small back connected with it. Then   
he tried to run past Sam. Sam, quick as a flash grabbed his arm.  
  
"Let go! Let go!" Todd cried, struggling against the bewildered coach.  
  
"Whoa! Whoa! Slow down a minute! Hey! Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you.   
Remember me? We met the other day. I'm Sam Rappapport. I coach here."  
  
Todd stopped his struggles and stood still, widened eyes regarding Sam warily.  
  
"Yeah...I remember."  
  
"Good. I'm sorry I frightened you. I really didn't mean to. I just wanted to   
talk to you for a minute, can I?"  
  
"I can't. I have to go. My dad'll be mad if I'm late."  
  
"Well, no problems there. How about I drive you home?"  
  
The look of horror on Todd's face nearly knocked Sam off his feet. He was   
truly taken aback. He never imagined a child could be so afraid of him. He   
didn't know what he was doing wrong, or how to stop it. He began to think he'd   
made a terrible mistake pursuing this. Maybe he should've just left it alone.  
  
"I'm sorry, Todd," he said, "Your parents probably warned you a hundred times   
about taking rides from strangers and we really don't know each other yet. I   
probably scared you to death. That was pretty dumb, huh?"  
  
Todd was still there, still looking at him, the nervous creases left his face   
and the boyish smoothness was back. He smiled a little.   
  
"That's okay. I know you didn't mean to. I'm sorry I--freaked out. It's just,   
last time I was late getting home my dad...well, he got real mad."  
  
"Well, I certainly don't want that. He might not let you join my team."  
  
Todd started shaking his head. "I told you, Mr.--"  
  
"Sam, just call me Sam. All the boys do. Well, that or Coach." Sam smiled   
encouragingly and Todd had to fight to keep his own slight smile from widening   
in response. That was the first adult who willingly offered his first name to   
him. It made him feel good, sort of grown up, and he wanted very much to be   
able to trust this man who had shown him so much kidness when he hardly knew   
him.  
  
Still, he had to make this man--Sam--understand that he couldn't join the   
football team eventhough he wanted to more than anything in the world. His   
father had been especially cranky the past week as an important business deal   
fell through and Todd didn't want to get on his bad side if he could help it.   
But Sam seemed pretty persistent and in spite of it all, Todd wanted to be   
convinced, wanted to hope that maybe he could get his father to change his   
mind. Maybe they both could.  
  
"Sam," he began carefully, "I told you, my father won't let me join the team.   
I already asked him and he'll be mad if I try to ask him again. He told me not   
to."  
  
"Well, you won't. I'll ask him for you. Let me come to your house and talk to   
your dad. I'm told I can be very persuasive. I'm a lawyer after all, you know.   
We argue for a living."  
  
He smiled broadly, letting Todd know he was joking, but Todd didn't laugh or   
even crack a smile. He was shaking his head again.   
  
"Oh Todd, let me try. Normally, I would take you at your word, but I could see   
how much you want to join the team, and I think you should get that chance.   
Let me talk to your dad. If he says no, you're no worse off then you were   
before.. Nothing to lose, pal."  
  
*That's what you think,* Todd thought.  
  
"No, you can't! My dad can't know I've been staying after school. I'm supposed   
to be home right after every day. Please Sam, don't tell him!"  
  
The panic in Todd's eyes alarmed Sam even futher and he set to calm him down.  
  
"Don't worry. He won't know, at least not from me. I'll be real subtle, I   
promise. I won't get you in trouble. What do you say?"  
  
He smiled again and, after the stormy glares he'd been getting from his father   
all week, it was like a soothing balm on Todd's soul. Todd thought for a   
second. He might get in trouble, almost surely would, but then maybe, just   
maybe, it would work. Sam seemed so sure and his surety was infectious. Still,   
he was nervous about the whole thing. All he could give in the way of assent   
was a quick shrug of his shoulders. That was all Sam needed.  
  
"Great! You won't regret it, pal, I promise. I'm sure I'll be ordering a new   
uniform soon. How about I come by around 8:00 tonight?"  
  
"Okay." He wrote his address on a piece of notebook paper.  
  
"Good. Now, I've kept you too long. You better scoot. I'll see you tonight,   
okay?"  
  
Todd nodded, grateful for Sam's understanding and headed home. He just hoped   
that, for once, his father would be understanding too. 


	4. Part 4

As Long As He Draws Breath part 5  
Todd looked at the clock by his bed for the 50th time in the past hour. He   
tried to concentrate on his homework, but his eyes were drawn to the   
neon-like, electronic display. It seemed forever before the next number would   
replace the last. Todd's mother told him once that a watched pot never boiled,   
but it didn't stop him from watching.   
  
It was nearly time and Todd was so nervous he thought he might faint. After   
dinner and the housekeeper gone for the day, Todd told his father that a   
teacher from his school wanted to come over and talk to him. It was the first   
time since before his mother left, two years earlier, that anyone had stood up   
for Todd against Peter. Even when Todd ran away from summer camp to be with   
her, she wouldn't stand up for him so they could stay together. Not against   
Peter and not against her new husband. She made him call Peter and she'd sent   
him back. After that, he couldn't trust anyone to be on his side, until Sam.   
It was so wierd, but he couldn't help feeling hopeful. But he was scared of   
telling Peter about Sam's visit. All he'd said was someone from the school was   
coming to talk to him.  
  
"Why Todd? Were you acting up in class? What did you do?"   
  
"Nothing Daddy, I swear. He just wanted to talk to you."  
  
Peter gave him a long look, his handsome face hard. "I guess we'll see, won't   
we?"  
  
It chilled Todd's blood when his father's voice got so cold. It was usually   
those times when Todd could expect to get the worst of him. He almost prefered   
it when his father screamed at him.  
  
"Daddy, I--"  
  
"Go do your homework, Todd," Peter said, not looking up from his paper, "I'd   
better not hear that radio on this time."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Todd spent the next two hours working on his schoolwork, but like the   
friendly, young coach the night before, he could scarcely keep his mind on his   
work. He was scared to death of how the meeting between the two adults would   
go. He already knew he was in trouble. He saw it in the granite planes of his   
father's face, the iciness of his eyes, but he still hoped that Sam could do   
what he came to do.   
  
Finally, it was time. He closed and stacked his books, then shut his eyes in a   
boyishly quick, impromptu prayer.   
  
*Please God. Please let this work.*  
  
He heard the doorbell downstairs. Right on time.   
  
"Todd!"  
  
Todd ran from his room and started downstairs.  
  
"Walk!" Peter commanded.  
  
"Sorry Dad." He slowed his pace, silently berating himself for   
forgetting...again. Wouldn't he ever learn?   
  
When he got to the front door, he took a deep breath before he opened it.  
  
"Hi Todd." Sam smiled. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit and tie and was   
carrying a leather briefcase, and his thick, nearly white hair was combed   
neatly back. Todd stared. He looked very different from the way Todd usually   
saw him, in jeans, a t-shirt and a windbreaker, with a whistle hanging from   
his neck, and sometimes from his lips, a clipboard in his hand, and his hair   
blowing wild around his face.  
  
Sam gave Todd a wink. "I know, you're not used to seeing me all dolled up, are   
ya? I was held up and didn't have time to change." Todd still stood there   
staring. "So...can I come in?"  
  
"Oh! Yeah!" Todd moved away from the door so Sam could enter.  
  
Todd took his overcoat and briefcase for him, then showed him to the   
livingroom where his father was pouring himself a drink. When they came in,   
Peter turned his most winning smile on Sam. His outward charm did nearly as   
much to get him clients as his business acumen did, and he utilized it   
whenever he met someone new. Appearances, after all, were very important.  
  
Sam smiled back and moved toward Peter, extending his hand.  
  
"Mr. Manning, I presume. Sam Rappaport. Very nice to meet you, sir."  
  
"Likewise. We don't often get housecalls from one of Todd's teachers."  
  
"I assure you, it's nothing bad. In fact, I think it would be very good for   
Todd."  
  
Todd lurked just inside the doorway, not quite daring to sit down. His hands   
were shaking.   
  
"Would you like a drink, Mr. Rappaport?"  
  
Sam declined and Peter gestured for him to sit down on the sofa opposite him,   
while he sat down with his own drink.  
  
"Well, Mr. Rappaport, what is this all about?"  
  
"You get right to the point, sir, and so will I. I coach little league   
football at your son's school."  
  
"I didn't know coaches were so well dressed these days. Maybe I'm in the wrong   
line of work?" They both laughed.  
  
"Oh no," Sam smiled, "I was held up in court. It was a long drive back and I   
didn't have time to change. I wanted to make sure I arrived on time, 8:00,   
just like I told Todd.  
  
"Court? You're an attorney? Todd told me you were a teacher."  
  
They both looked at Todd, Peter frowning sternly. The boy stood frozen to the   
spot. Had he said that? Not in so many words, but he was afraid his father to   
think he'd deliberately lied. Things were already taking a turn for the worst.   
Seeing Todd's tense expression, Sam quickly covered for him. "Oh, that's an   
easy mistake. I do teach in a sense. I guess I teach football. That's what I   
came to talk about. I would like it very much if Todd could join my team."  
  
Peter's eyes never left Todd's face and the wrinkle in his brow grew deeper.   
Todd dropped his eyes. Oh, this was a mistake. A big mistake.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
Sam thought about what he was going to say on the drive over and he thought   
the best thing to do was stick to the facts, don't embellish, keep it clean,   
don't volunteer more than was necessary.   
  
"You see, Mr. Manning, we're having spring tryouts in a few weeks. We put up   
flyers announcing it. Some of my boys have classes with Todd. Todd expressed   
an interest in joining the team and we can use all the good players we can   
get. I approached Todd, on school grounds, of course, and asked him if he'd   
like to join. He seemed concerned that you didn't want him staying out late   
after school. He made it very clear about that, but I asked him if I could   
talk to you myself. Mr. Manning, if you're worried about Todd being out late   
and getting home, you won't have to be. He'll be perfectly safe. I'll make   
sure of that."  
  
Speech finished, Sam waited expectantly for Peter's reaction. Peter had sat   
quietly, listening to Sam very carefully, but thinking also, and there was one   
thing he really wanted to know.  
  
"Where was Todd when you approached him, Mr. Rappaport?"  
  
"It was right outside his classroom. He was just coming out after the last   
bell. We only spoke for a few minutes, when I asked Todd if it would be   
alright if I could speak to you."  
  
Every word true, and he still managed to skirt around the fact that Todd was   
disobeying Peter by not going straight home every day. He didn't like it much,   
but he'd promised Todd that he wouldn't say anything and he meant to keep that   
promise. He didn't see any real harm in what Todd had been doing, and Todd   
wouldn't have any reason to do it anymore once he joined the team. At least he   
hadn't been lying, and if it worked, it would be worth it. He thought it would   
be worth almost anything to see a smile on that sad little face.   
  
Peter seemed to think it over for a few minutes. The room was whisper quiet.   
Todd held his breath.  
  
"Mr. Rappaport," Peter said finally, "Todd told me about this football thing.   
I may seem like an ogre denying a young boy a chance to do what practically   
every boy dreams of doing, but I have my reasons. I don't know how much Todd   
told you about our family," He threw another glance at Todd who dropped his   
eyes again, "but my wife, Todd's mother, and I are divorced. Todd is all I   
have left. I want to make sure he's safe in this house every day."  
  
"I understand, believe me. I have two of my own. You want nothing more than to   
protect them and make sure they're safe and happy. Mr. Manning, I promise you,   
as long as Todd is in my care, he'll never be out of my sight. I will make   
sure that Todd is completely safe at all times and I'll make sure he gets home   
safely. You won't have to worry at all. If you'd like, I could drive him home   
after practices. I wouldn't mind."  
  
He took one of his cards out with several names written on the back.  
  
"You can call the school and verify that I coach there, and call me back with   
your answer. My home and office number is there."  
  
Peter took the card, read both sides, slipped it into his breast pocket.  
  
*This is it,* Todd thought. * Oh boy, this is never going to work. Dad's going   
to say no and then he's going to punish me for bringing Sam here. Why did I   
ever agree to this?*  
  
He was so sure Peter would say no that he could feel helpless tears burning   
his eyes. Peter surprised him.  
  
"You know," he began in measured tones, "this might not be a bad idea. Todd is   
small for his age, as you can see. Maybe football, a sport, will toughen him   
up, strengthen him. Maybe he does spend too much time in the house with his   
head stuck in a book. Maybe if I let him do this, he wouldn't be moping around   
the house all the time."  
  
He smiled jovially and Sam couldn't help but wonder what Todd was so worried   
about. Peter Manning seemed like a good man, a caring father, and things were   
going better than he expected. He had no idea how significant this was for   
Todd, who could barely contain his astonishment and excitement. It was   
incredible. Sam had done it. He was actually going to get to play.  
  
"May I ask you a question, Mr. Rappaport?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Why are you doing all this for a boy you barely know?"  
  
Sam gave him a modest shrug. "It's what I'd do for all my boys."  
  
After Todd walked Sam to the door and said goodbye, he went back into the   
livingroom where his father was now wearing an expression that Todd couldn't   
quite read. He was granite again. He beckoned Todd to him and the child moved   
slowly, grateful but cautious.   
  
"So, my son is going to be a big football star, is he? Are you going to make   
your father proud?"  
  
Todd began to feel encouraged by his father's interest and acceptance. He   
lifted his face to look Peter in the eye.  
  
"Yes, sir, I'll try," he said, eagerly, "Thank you, Daddy, for letting me-"  
  
His words were cut off with a stinging slap to his cheek that rocked his head   
backward. Peter's hand was so big, it covered over half of Todd's face.  
  
"Owww Dad!" Todd whined, too surprised not to react.  
  
"Be quiet. That's for bringing strangers into this house, people from your   
school, no less. I warned you about bringing people here and telling them our   
business and what did you do? You get some lawyer/coach to come here and plead   
your case for you after I already told you no. You knew it would be harder for   
me to explain why you couldn't do it to someone else, and that I'd have to say   
yes. That was your sneaky little plan from the start, wasn't it? Don't lie to   
me."  
  
"N-no sir!" Todd protested, vainly hoping to stave off more flying hands, "It   
was Sa-- Mr. Rappaport's idea. I told him what you said, but he wanted to   
come. He asked me to-- I didn't mean to-- I didn't plan-- I didn't--" Todd   
stammered helplessly, fear gripping his heart.  
  
Peter watched him, his angry expression turning almost gentle. It still   
unsettled Todd the way his father's mood could change so quickly.  
  
"Alright. Hush. I know you wouldn't dare lie to me. You know what would happen   
if you did, and you'd deserve it. I believe you this time. But if it were your   
idea, you would 've gotten a lot worse than just a little smack, you know   
that, don't you?"  
  
"Yes sir," he agreed. He was still frightened, but relieved that no more   
punishment was coming.   
  
"And don't make me tell you again. Don't tell *anyone* what goes on in this   
house. That's our business, no one elses, understand? Is any of this   
penetrating that thick skull of yours, Todd?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy."  
  
"Fine. Go to bed. I don't want to hear a peep out of you for the rest of the   
night."  
  
He turned his back on Todd, and Todd took his cue to hurry upstairs to his   
room. He rubbed his sore cheek, but now that his father was out of sight, he   
could allow himself a smile. He couldn't suppress the happiness he was   
feeling. He was going to be able to get out of the house, as cold and empty as   
a tomb since his mother left, and be able to play with the other kids. And he   
was going to be good, he promised himself. He'd practice everyday, and he   
would make his father proud of him. Then maybe things between him and his   
father would get better. They had to. 


	5. Part 5

At The Bayberry  
Spring is Almost Here!  
KayM  
As Long As He Draws Breath part 6  
Wed Apr 9 18:57:31 2003  
24.130.196.170  
  
Peter came into Todd's room quietly so as not to wake him. He stared down at   
the sleeping form of his young son, and brushed a few sweaty strands of hair   
out of his face. He and Barbara couldn't have children, so when his cousin   
Irene showed up on his doorsteep with the new baby in her arms and begged them   
to take him, he saw opportunities.   
  
Besides what Irene offered them on Victor's behalf, and Peter never turned his   
back on a pretty penny, Barbara had wanted the baby immediately. She wanted a   
child so badly and their marriage had been, to put it mildly, on shaky ground   
for months. She'd threatened to leave him, said he was becoming different, too   
angry, too violent, and she couldn't stand it. He still loved her then and he   
wanted to make her happy.   
  
And then there was the thought of having a son of his own. When he held the   
tiny baby in his arms for the first time, and saw those large, innocent eyes   
staring up at him in wonder, he began to enjoy the idea of having a son.   
Someone to follow in his footsteps, someone to run his company someday when he   
retired. A boy that was strong, brave, self-assured, and who followed in his   
every footstep, like a younger version of himself. And Barbara wouldn't leave.   
But things hadn't gone the way he expected.   
  
Peter had tried to love his son, and did in his own way, but it just wasn't   
any good. Barbara doted on the baby, and she was happy, yes, but things   
between her and Peter only got worse. Peter became jealous of all the   
attention she lavished on the son that she wanted to call Thomas, after a   
much-loved uncle. Peter let her, but to be difficult he refused to call the   
baby by his given name, saying it wasn't the right name for his son. Thomas,   
he would huff, only a sissy would have a name like that, and his son was going   
to be no sissy. Not wanting to fight, Barbara relented and called the baby by   
his middle name, except when she was alone with him, cooing his given name in   
his ear like a soft secret between them. It was enough for her to be able to   
enjoy her new baby.   
  
At times, she was so enraptured by Todd, by the sweetness of his smell, the   
touch of his silky blond hair, the bright intelligence she saw in bright,   
hazel eyes, that Peter had to call her several times before she heard him.   
Then, when he told her what he wanted, she'd just dismiss him and go back to   
giving the baby all her attention. Peter didn't like that at all. He was   
losing control and he couldn't have that. He began to resent the tiny child,   
and abandoned his promise not to hit her after they got the baby. He began to   
hit her progressively more often and progressively worse. Barbara endured it   
because of Todd, but eventually she couldn't take anymore. She had to get out   
or, she knew, he would kill her. She wanted so badly to take Todd with   
her...but she couldn't. Walking out the door, and leaving her sweet, sensitive   
son behind was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, but she could see no   
other choice. Peter promised to take care of Todd and she had to believe him,   
telling herself that she would come back for him someday, and they would both   
be free.  
  
When she left, all Peter had was Todd, and he couldn't help but look down on   
his young son with disgust. His strong, brave, self-assured son was small,   
quiet, timid, and different from him in every possible way. He thought he   
would choke on the disappointment. His nightly "lessons" for his son weren't   
just for punishment. He wanted to see how much Todd could take. He wanted to   
build him up, make him strong, more like him. He was weak and Peter Manning   
did not want a weak son. Watching Todd sleep, a bit fitfully and moaning   
softly, beads of sweat dotting his brow, Peter knew he had many more lessons   
to teach his son before he would get it. If he ever would.  
  
But part of him didn't want Todd to get it. He was sickened by the "weakness"   
he saw in his son, but he could use it. He liked having control over the boy,   
making him do what he wanted. Keeping him in line and showing him who was   
boss. If he couldn't get to Barbara, well, she'd left her little bastard   
behind and he would do just fine.   
  
He grinned down at his son and shook him awake. It didn't take much. Todd was   
a light sleeper, used to being awakened by his father in the middle of the   
night. Peter often drank before his visits and the smell of gin clung to him   
like a blanket, making Todd hold his breath. Peter was just a sillhouette,   
bathed in the lemony light coming from the hallway. Todd couldn't see his   
face, couldn't focus on familiar features. All he could see was shadows and he   
was frightened. That, at least, was familiar.  
  
Peter sat on his bed and clutched his thigh through the thick blankets. In the   
dark, his smile seemed ghoulish. A disembodied cheshire cat grin. Todd blinked   
blearily as he tried to pull the blankets up to his chin. He felt very cold   
all of a sudden. Peter grabbed his hand gently and forced the blankets back   
down.  
  
"Todd...you love your daddy, don't you?"  
  
Todd closed his eyes and sighed imperceptibly. This was a familiar refrain and   
he knew how to answer.  
  
"Yes, Daddy."  
  
"Say it."  
  
"I love you." He tried to stop from trembling, not understanding why he felt   
so cold. This wasn't new. Why was he still so afraid?  
  
"I love you, what?"  
  
"I love you, Daddy."  
  
"Again. Said it again." His voice was starting to sound terribly hoarse to   
Todd, somehow alien. He hoped with everything he had in him that Peter   
wouldn't notice him trembling.   
  
"I love you, Daddy," he sighed, staring down at his hands.  
  
Peter reached out and lifted his chin so he could stare into his son's eyes.   
He smiled and it was warm, genuine. Todd stopped shaking and took a deep   
breath. Waiting. Fearing. Hoping. Wishing.  
  
"That's very good, Todd," Peter said in his croaking voice and his smile   
turned predatory, making Todd's heart race in his small, thin chest. "That's   
very good."  
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	6. Part 6

At The Bayberry  
KayM  
As Long As He Draws Breath part 7  
Wed Apr 9 18:43:01 2003  
24.130.196.170  
  
As Long As He Draws Breath part 7  
Peter didn't balk at the money he'd have to pay for Todd's uniform. He just   
pulled some bills out of his wallet, threw them in Todd's direction and walked   
away.  
  
Todd would stand in front of the bathroom mirror and stare at himself in his   
new uniform. True, the uniform seemed to eat his small, frail body like it was   
a live thing, but he felt more proud and happy then he ever believed he could.   
His father was staying out later and later, sometimes not coming home until   
well into the wee hours. Sometimes he would come home with a woman he'd   
introduce as Todd's nanny. Todd had many nannies, most of whom never gave him   
a second glance, and who often disappeared soon after he met them. The   
housekeeper would make him dinner before she left for the day, but other than   
that, she had no real interaction with Todd, or warmth toward him. Most of the   
time, Todd was home alone, and even when Peter was home, he was mostly   
ignored. Peter was too preoccupied with the "nannies" to worry about him. At   
least the nights visits lessened when there was a nanny around. For that, Todd   
counted himself grateful.  
  
He hated having to go home after practices. After all the fun he had playing,   
and being with the other kids and Sam, he could barely stand going back to the   
cold, empty house where Peter alternately beat him and ignored him. He was   
starting to come out of his shell a little and his teammates were starting to   
talk to him and include him, even during school hours. He started to show a   
little more of his sweet smile, and quick wit, and his eyes weren't always   
planted on the floor. Now, he didn't spend every lunch hour eating alone.   
  
And Sam, as promised, drove him home from every practice. He loved talking to   
Sam because he always seemed interested in what he was saying. He listened   
with a smile as Todd babbled on happily about football, his favorite shows on   
t.v., his new friends, about anything. Of course, Todd made sure not to get   
too personal. Sometimes Sam would ask him how things were going at home, and   
Todd's face would shadow over. He'd carefully skirt around the questions,   
giving as little detail as possible, or changing the subject altogether. Sam   
didn't think anything of it. Some people were just like that, private, kept   
themselves to themselves, but he was pleased to see Todd getting along well   
with the other team members, and enjoying himself. And he loved seeing him   
smile. It was infectious.   
  
Often, though, Sam was distracted with his own problems. Things weren't going   
well at home, and Todd could tell that Sam had other things on his mind,   
though Sam would come out of his reveries when he noticed Todd's silence and   
encourage him to go on, making an effort to listen. Todd would continue, but   
he would wonder if his coach had secrets of his own he was desperately trying   
to keep.  
  
One late afternoon, as they were nearing Todd's house, Sam couldn't help but   
notice Todd wilting in his seat. Sam noticed with a frown that Todd often got   
suddenly quiet as they rounded his block and he wondered about it.  
  
"Todd," he said softly, "What's going on, pal?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Nothing? Come on, Todd, you shut off like a faucet after talking my ear off   
halfway home," he smiled and pinched Todd's ear lightly to show that he was   
teasing. "Oh come on, Boomer, you know you can tell me anything. We're not   
just coach and player. We're buddies, right?"  
  
Todd nodded, smiling a little at his new nickname, given to him when Sam   
commented that Todd could run like thunder. "So what's wrong, pal? Tell your   
old coach."  
  
Todd looked at his hands, squirming like mealworms in his lap. "I-- I   
don't...want to go home," he nearly whispered.  
  
Sam frowned. "Why not?"  
  
"My dad works late. I'm alone a lot. I don't like it. It's so--" He didn't   
know how to express to Sam that he was lonely. It wasn't a new concept for   
him, he'd missed his mother every single day since she left, but it never   
seemed to get any easier to deal with. Sam seemed to understand.  
  
"Oh Boomer, I didn't even realize. You must rattling around like a pea in a   
can in that big house of yours. Hey, maybe a few days a week, you can come   
over to my house, do your homework, maybe have some dinner, at least until   
your dad gets home. He can come pick you up on the way home. How would that   
be?"  
  
Todd's heart swelled in his chest. He'd never been inside of Sam's house   
before. It was like his frequent fantasy of Sam taking him to live with him   
and letting him be his son was coming true. He knew it was silly to think   
that, but he couldn't help it. At least he'd get to spend more time with Sam.   
He tried to supress his excitement.  
  
"I'd like that," he replied evenly, but his smile was wide and beautiful. Sam   
couldn't help smiling himself.  
  
"Well, good. Ask your dad and we'll see, okay?"  
  
The grin dropped from Todd's face and he swallowed as he got out and trudged   
up the front walk. Ask your father. That was the last thing he wanted to do,   
especially now. Things were getting bad again. He' d tried to stay out of   
Peter's way as much as possible. As lonely as he often felt at home alone, he   
was sometimes glad when his father didn't come home until late at night, often   
when he was already in bed. Sometimes he wished he'd never come back, then he   
felt guilty for thinking that way. He felt torn with confusion. He loved his   
father immensely, but he didn't know how to please him. Doing well on the   
football team didn't do it, getting good grades didn't do it. He picked up his   
toys, he cleaned up his room, he was quiet when his father demanded he be   
quiet, and he stepped lightly, tried to be good. Still, his father seemed to   
be in a foul mood more often than not, and he drank more than ever. He hit   
more than ever too, whether Todd misbehaved or not. If he had no reason to   
punish Todd, he made one up. There was no way Todd could be safe from a kick,   
a slap, or a hard pinch that Peter was determined to give him.   
  
And worse, the night visits were starting up again. Peter "fired" another   
nanny, a woman named Terry who didn't even seem to know Todd's name. She   
called him, "the boy" or "the kid", something that amused Peter to no end. She   
and Peter fought, Todd didn't know what about, and he got rid of her. Then   
Peter stormed into Todd's room, dragging him out of bed by his thick, dark   
blond hair, and took his anger out on his most convenient target. As light a   
sleeper as Todd was before, it was almost impossible for him now. He lay down   
with the covers pulled up to his chin, staring at his closed door and   
wondering if his father was going to crash in and hurt him again. He could   
barely force himself to close his eyes let alone get more than a few hours of   
sleep a night. Even in his dreams he didn't feel safe.   
  
He wanted desperately to go to his mother, but knew that was impossible. After   
Mount Joy, he knew he couldn't seek her out again. His father would certainly   
come after him. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but deep down he was afraid   
that she would send him back again, reject him again, for good this time. His   
mother was one. His father wouldn't love him. The only bright spot in his life   
was Sam, and if he wanted to be with, he had to go through his father first.  
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End file.
